Wrecked
by RyokoMist
Summary: Hill High's senior trip takes a horrific turn as their cruise ship sinks. After her lifeboat splits from the rest, and its inhabitants fall prey to the ocean, Max wakes: stuck alone on a deserted island...until Terry finds her. As they struggle to survive until rescue comes, the teens realize their feelings, fears...and that they aren't alone.
1. Chapter 1

_A little inspiration. Its something I had been wanting to write for years, but I didn't feel compelled to do so until recently. Chapter One. We'll see how long this fic goes over time. Until next time MistFits!_

 _please excuse any typos or punctuation errors._

* * *

 **WRECKED**

"Alright everybody, listen up!" came Mr. Thompson's voice loudly at the airport gate that looked out onto Gotham International Airport's massive and intricately patterned landing strips. Jake Thompson was young for a teacher – but his credentials made the man a valuable asset to any school within Gotham's educational system (whether he realized so, or not). And what was more? Students not only loved him, but also learned easily under his tutelage. He made getting an education successful and fun and entertaining, and his classes obviously benefited from the man's methods. Plus, it didn't hurt that he wasn't hard to look at either: buff enough to earn the respect and admiration of the guys, and attractive enough to moisten any skirt nearby. Jake looked good – everybody knew it – but the thing that made him an even more shway guy was that he wasn't cocky about it. In fact, Jake was pretty downright shy when he wasn't ranting and raving about micro molecules, or the beauty of this century's evolution in knowledge regarding biological entities.

Standing at 6 feet even, the green eyed, fully bearded, brown pompadour haired Science teacher waved an arm. His normally soft tone filled in authority and seriousness, gaining the attention of 100 students. Their once rowdy voices instantly shushed; a welcomed change for the passengers and attendants in nearby gates. It was the first week of June, and Hamilton Hill High's senior class trip was already upon them. With a few parental chaperones in tow, Thompson had volunteered to watch over the teens during their excursion of redefined independence – partially because it was the responsible thing to do since none of the other staff members wanted to spend a week and a half with _these_ troublemakers; also, because he quite frankly needed a vacation himself. Jake smirked and held up a pamphlet of paper for all to see. "Everybody got their trip itinerary?" He paused and listened carefully to the responding mumbles for a "no", and when there were none, continued. "Okay, so here's the run through: We're going to board the 747 for Florida – nonstop. Once we reach there, everybody will line up directly outside of our arrival gate. I'm serious. Not a single one of you better wander off." Thompson gave Nelson Nash a warning glare, causing the jock to smile innocently and shrug.

"Once everybody's off the plane, we'll wait for our bags to be delivered directly – courtesy of _Bienvenidos Travel_. From the airport, the group will board our buses and head to the hotel for the night. And in the morning-."

"MEXICAN CRUISE TO PARADISE, BABY!" shouted Nelson, earning the teen an explosion of praise and jubilee from the other students.

Thompson shook his head with a wide smile at the group's excitement before checking his watch for the umpteenth time today. "Half an hour to boarding time," the teacher announced. "If you gotta pee, better do it now!" Without another word, the approaching thirty young man plopped down tiresomely into his seat as a few female students suddenly crowded around him – yammering on about nonexistent concerns as an excuse to get a little closer to their hot instructor. Jake groaned internally. God, he hoped the whole trip wouldn't be like this…

Meanwhile, while everyone else was clearly off the walls about the miniature vacation, Maxine Gibson sat near a window towards the rear of the gate – twiddling her plum painted nails nervously. Max was a lot of things: genius, gamer queen, bad ass, street smart, one fiery dame…but one thing she wasn't, was fond of travel by boat. Max loved the water – she just hated being surrounded by it with the nearest piece of land two days away. She had her reasons. The thoughts of everything that could go wrong had been eating away at the girl for months – and now with this being the day of the trip, and day before having to board the ship, Gibson was starting to become overwhelmed with anxiety. She fingered the bottle of Xanax resting safely inside of her carryon tote, exhaling a little in relief each time she managed to touch it. "You're going to make yourself have a heart attack, Max. Swear."

And then there was this guy. "You've been saying that all day. Keep it up and it just might happen," was the girl's annoyed retort as she looked up at the frame of her best friend hovering over her – one hand in his shorts pocket while the other tugged at the loose collar of his t-shirt in indication that he was hot.

Terry held up his hands in surrender, urging the girl to simmer down a little. "I'm just saying you have nothing to worry about," countered McGinnis as he spun and fell dramatically in the seat beside her. "I mean, you've been through _way_ worse." Terry winked suggestively. Max couldn't help it when she'd lidded her eyes alongside an all knowing, somewhat seductive grin. Damn straight she had been through worse – all on his account. But at least back then she knew that if shit hit the fan, he'd be right there to save her. The rules of engagement were different now. If Max had to choose between risking her life to save someone else's – or giving up her life so he could save someone else's – they both knew the choice she'd make. _That's_ probably why Gibson was so anxious; it wasn't every day that you came to terms with the possibility of your own death. Then again, that was just the fear talking…they hoped. After all, if she could survive in mother fucking Gotham City before the Batman, she could surely survive now at the chance of him not being right there to save her if something went wrong. "But okay. I need to stop saying you're going to have a heart attack," admits McGinnis. "

"THANK you!" Max exclaims. "We've got enough bad juju in the air just living in Gotham. I don't need you adding to it!"

He smirked. Even when she was being ridiculous, she was still right. Still…"But c'mon Max. You're freaking yourself out over nothing." Terry reached out and took her hand into his own to comfort her. Despite the jokes, even Terry could see she really was struggling with this, and he hated it. If there was one thing McGinnis loathed the most, it was having the people close to him have any flitter of worry; especially since he was now the one person designed to erase those fears. "There's a whole group of us, and the travel agency is quite reputable."

Max leaned forward and adjusted the strap of her tired black flip flops before leaning all the way back into her chair, mimicking Terry's collar tug of her yellow cotton spandex one piece shorts jumper. It _was_ feeling a tad warmer than normal in here. "Sounds like you did a little digging," Max pried with a flutter of her eyebrows in indication, giving his hand a soft squeeze of reassurance that relaxed him enough to let go.

Terry chuckled. "Had to. Bruce wouldn't have let me come, otherwise. But even though the old man practically pushed me out the door, I can tell he's tore up about it. I don't know how he's going to make it without me." The vigilante teen pressed the back of his palm against his forehead in a vintage fainting motion, and then snorted.

Max smiled at him. It had been a while since she'd seen her best friend so…free; so loose and relaxed. Terry loved his job – that was beyond obvious – but even Max wasn't blind to the fact that sometimes wearing the suit of vigilante justice took a bigger wear on McGinnis than the teen was emotionally ready to handle; much less admit. Still, he held on like a champ: never complaining, never even thinking about how much easier life would be if he'd just called it quits. Maybe that was why Bruce was so willing to let him go. And for that, Max was pleased, relieved, and nonetheless fully grateful.

"Besides," McGinnis added in a low whisper as he leaned toward the tech geek's ear, "you're perfectly safe with me around." His voice changed then: deeper, more mysterious – to someone whom the teen girl knew just as well – the voice of Gotham's Dark Knight. " _I'll protect you…_ " A shiver raced up her spine and Gibson fought her damned hardest not to bite into her plump lower lip. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it pissed Max off a little less than she pretended – he knew _that_ too. Asshole…

"What are you two whispering about?" asked a familiar voice. The two turned their gazes upwards to find their clique approaching after a final bathroom run: Dana, Chelsea, Nelson, Howie, and Blade. The voice who asked the question was Chelsea – who had a mischievous smirk on her face.

Great. "Max is still freaking out about the cruise," answered Terry with a roll of the eyes, leaning away from Max as if doing so would erase any ideas forming in Cunningham's devious little head. Of course, it didn't.

Things between Max and Terry had been quite interesting over the past year. McGinnis and Dana were officially broken up – via Tan's discretion. The two were still on superior terms, though – and because of that the group was able to still hang out together without things getting super awkward. But it wasn't until last year that the blonde's mind and awareness started tinkering for thoughts of something developing between the two longtime friends. That was when Max had been put in the hospital last year with pneumonia. Needless to say it took everyone by surprise. One minute Max was standing from her desk to throw something in the trash, and the next she was sprawled out on the ground unconscious. Terry had officially lost his shit. He wouldn't let a soul touch her until the ambulance arrived, and when they had, McGinnis was in the back of the vehicle quicker than Chelsea could swipe her daddy's credit card at an Abercrombie & Fitch sale. From what Cunningham could see over the days that turned into months of visits, Terry never left Max's side. She didn't know what all happened while Max was hospitalized, but the beauty _did_ know that afterwards, the two had become noticeably closer…Dana had simply said she figured something like that would happen. Tan had smiled when she saw one of Wayne's cars pull up to the school parking, and saw Terry open up the passenger door to help Max out. All the former girlfriend had said on the matter was: "Maybe Max..." And without another word she headed inside of the school building as if nothing had even happened, leaving their blonde bestie to her formulating thoughts.

Back in reality, Howie sniffed and pushed up his glasses anime style. Gibson had to admit: it surprisingly looked kind of cool. "Come now, Max," Howie taunted at the girl's unnecessary concerns with a criticizing smirk. "This worry of yours is entirely illogical. Do you know how low the probability is of anything bad happening on the ship? With today's technological advancements: fairly low."

Good ole Howie: always putting intellect and tech over good old fashioned gut feelings and common sense. No wonder he had thought building a robotic girlfriend was a good idea. Max snorted. "So they said for what was _supposedly_ one of the greatest ships of all time. And we _all_ know what happened to it…"

Nelson raised a brow and Max stared menacingly at everyone's blank expressions waiting for an answer of some sort before stating slowly: "Ice…berg…"

The group seemed to groan in unison. "You're being juvenile, Max," chimed in Dana as the Asian beauty sat in the chair directly in front of them while Nelson and Howie stood on each side of Blade, her arms linked through theirs.

"Super juvenile," echoed Chelsea, plopping down on Max's lap and squeezing the girl tight to her bosom before stroking her hair in pity. "Poor baby."

Max sighed loudly. "Knock it off. You guys are supposed to be supporting me!"

"Don't worry babe," promised Nelson with a wink of the eye. "We'll keep you so entertained, you'll forget about everything else. In fact, we can start in my hotel room if you like?"

Almost as if all of their minds were a collective entity, all the girls grimaced and pointed their fingers to the back of their mouths, "DREG!"

* * *

 _Bienvenidos Travel_ was a prestigious organization that marketed, booked, serviced, and even provided quality travel to their travelers all across the globe – making them specialists and perfectly in tune with offering the best of care. From personal, corporate, and group travel, they managed it all – and weren't lacking in the financial department in the slightest. Eugenio Salvarez, the current CEO of the organization, was unfortunately not as courteous as his predecessors. Eugenio cared about the customer – because he cared for their money even more. His great, great grandfather founded the business to help people experience the world's beauty from any and every where possible without going broke trying to do it. He believed the Earth was a gift every person should witness at some point. Eugenio believed they deserved the best…to line his own pockets with.

Because of Salvarez's greed, _Bienvenidos_ often found itself excruciatingly booked; even sometimes going so far as to book travel when it wasn't exactly the safest to do so. He'd nearly lost planes in blizzards, trains in floods, boats in storms, hotels in hurricanes – just to make a dollar. " _I really think we should cancel the Mexican cruise, Gene,_ " came Richardson's voice from his business office in England. Kenneth Richardson – red haired, green eyed, young – was a family friend and currently, business partner.

Salvarez leaned back into his leather arm chair with his feet on the desk top, and merely continued watching the soccer game broadcasting on the 60 inch screen hanging on the adjacent wall. "We've been over this, Kenneth," started the CEO slowly.

" _That's the problem,_ " sassed the Englishman. " _We've been over this way too many times. I'm all the way here and can see the weather is turning bad. It's the start of hurricane season down there._ "

"We've never had a storm come this early in the year, Kenneth," countered Eugenio with a tone laced with disrespect – a putdown.

Kenneth struggled his hardest to let that one go. Richardson wasn't an idiot – far from it. His family had their own travel company that serviced the UK. Very much like Salvarez, Richardson was a CEO – the difference was that Kenneth cared a bit more about his customers and their happiness than his friend claimed to. Still, he didn't like being played off like some unintellectual fool taking part in his first rodeo; because fact of the matter was that Salvarez needed Kenneth…not the other way around. " _Eugenio, this company has some of the best meteorologists across the world. All of them have checked the data, and all of them agree-._ "

"That it's not a hurricane."

" _But that's not the only problem!_ " Kenneth exclaimed with growing frustration, tearing a hand through his red faux hawk. " _Forget the hurricane that may or may not show up. Forget the weather entirely and focus on the_ ship _._ "

Here we go. Salvarez scoffed with a shake of his head. "The ship is fine. It received the necessary repairs-."

" _Calling them_ necessary _is a bit of stretch, Gene – don't you think?_ " challenged Richardson with a raised brow of disapproval." _You may have tweaked a couple of structural problems, replaced a rusty bolt or two: but you and I both know that all of the proper configurations, updates, repairs, maintenance, and more have not been completed. La Mariposa failed her last inspection on so many categories I don't even see how you could even contemplate putting her in the water!_ "

Salvarez twiddled a pen behind his fingers, eyes never leaving the television screen until his receptionist peeked her head inside the office and pointed to his computer. Eugenio noted a recent chat message and opened it, smiling to see that his recent travel group had safely landed in Florida and would be ready for departure via _La Mariposa_ in the morning. Appeased by this good bit of news in the midst of his current conversation, Salvarez sent a provocative emoji back to his receptionist's chat box – letting her know to be ready to pull up that skirt as soon as he got off the phone. When she peeked back inside, the beautiful Latina stood fully in the doorway and traced a hand down the side of her thigh before crossing over and raising the front of her grey skirt just enough for the hand to slip under. Eugenio licked his lips as the young woman rotated her hidden hand, all while giving him the most seductive of stares. Her hips bucked as she threw back her head, suppressing a moan solely so that the man on the other end of the line wouldn't hear. "Listen, Kenneth," began Salvarez as he began to swiftly pull off his jacket and prepared to end this pointless conversation early.

" _Don't you 'Listen, Kenneth' me, Gene. This is important!_ "

The receptionist held out her opposite index finger and shook it from side to side to stop her boss as he was getting ready to rise to his feet. Like an obedient lap dog, Eugenio stopped, staring at her readily for her next command. She continued to rub between her thighs, biting her lip hard and putting an index finger to her lips in indication of silence. Removing her hand from the outer limits of her underwear, she quietly tip toed back to her designated desk after closing the door. Eugenio growled. He was going to fuck her brains out as soon as he got off this damned phone.

" _I'm serious on this one_ ," continued Kenneth – completely unaware to the room's recent happenings. " _Call it off. That ship isn't sea worthy-_."

"DAMNIT, Kenneth, she's ready ENOUGH!" yelled the Latino male with a bang of the fist against his desk, causing absolute silence on the other line and within the office. "I made the necessary repairs and provisions. Do you hear me? The _necessary_ repairs and provisions. This is my last major cruise of the year because of that call you made to the inspection unit! Because of you, all three of my liners are out of commission until the work is done. But the _Mariposa_ is fit enough of those three – and I am not going to lose money just because of a couple rusted parts and outdated computer systems. That's what the fucking crew is for: TO RUN THE DAMN SHIP! Fuck the auto pilot system and the engine coolants or whatever the hell it is. MAN drives that boat. He's been driving it since before my great, great grandfather even made this company. She's fine enough-."

" _NO SHE'S NOT!_ " Kenneth couldn't believe a single word he was hearing. The England native knew that his childhood friend could be a tad greedy, but he never once expected Gene was so blind to dollar signs that he would put an entire ship of people's lives at stake just to make an extra buck. He was mad because the inspectors were called? What the heck did he expect after all three of the ships had stalled in the middle of the ocean? What did he expect when _El Toro_ 's (the youngest of the fleet) radar system had malfunctioned, leading the blind captain and crew straight onto a random large reef off of the French Islands that caused the vessel to take on water and start to capsize? What did he expect when _La Bella Paloma_ 's engine's suddenly spiked and overheated…and caught fire right off the coast of Africa, and made everyone have to abandon ship? Each ship had major malfunctions that required immediate inspection – an inspection that benched all three permanently until a secondary inspection after all the repairs; repairs that would cost _Bienvenidos Travel_ millions of dollars (a major financial loss that could have been avoided if Eugenio had gotten regular maintenance on the vessels done like he should have).

Eugenio turned off the television. "I think you've forgotten who you're talking to, Richardson. This is my company-."

" _NO, I think you've forgotten who YOU'RE talking to!"_ Eugenio snapped his jaws shut. Kenneth had had e-fucking-nough. No more back talk. No more disrespect. No more games. If Eugenio wanted everything put out on the table – if he needed a _reminder_ – then fine; Kenneth would fucking give him that. _"Your company was on the verge of nonexistence after your ignorance caused that 747 to crash in the mountains of Switzerland. 100 people died on that plane, and the suits had bled you dry. It's because our families have been such great friends that_ I _bailed you out! I bought a fair share of Bienvenidos and not only kept you afloat, but helped silence that incident and build you up to where you are now. Now, you are right about one thing: you have the final power to continue on with your plans – but I will not support this decision – and if anything happens to those students, I will not only renounce you, but will take you for everything you have._ " The line hung up, leaving Eugenio sitting up tautly in his chair with a balled up fist and vast anger in his eyes. Damn.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey yo! So, I'm sure you noticed that the rating for this fic is "M". Well, it's not just because of language. Thanks to some pressing from my readers to do more lemon scenes, I figure I'd try jumping out of my comfort zone and doing just that for this fic. Wrecked is only supposed to have two love scenes - in this chapter is one of them. The second shouldn't happen for a few chapters later. Anyways...lawd...im so awkward with this...Read on MistFits._

 _Please excuse any typos or grammatical errors. Also, please excuse the ending of this chapter. I was getting too damn tired of writing this chapter to do anything else XD_

* * *

 **WRECKED**

 _ **2**_

There was literally nothing more Max wanted than to just fall down onto her hotel Queen sized bed and lounge until the end of time. But given present company – she thought as noisy giggles of glee coming from the hall grew louder in approach – _that_ was going to be beyond impossible. Instead, she'd just have to deal and take whatever brief moment of relaxation the girls' would give whenever they should feel generous enough. Yet, as Max softly sat on the edge of the mattress, she figured in the end it wasn't all bad. This was the last time any of them would be with or see one another before going their separate ways for college – or life in general pushing them further apart; maybe too far apart. Tough skinned as Gibson was, she couldn't lie to herself: the thought hurt. Because of her friends, she'd been transformed from her once tactically solitary and cold self, to someone who had been graced with relationships – healthy relationships (for the most part; if you considered being an Oracle for a Bat dressed vigilante, _healthy_ ) – that made the young woman a better person. Max didn't realize how much she hated the thought of being alone again until faced with the reality of high school – and all the memories she'd birthed through it – coming to an official end. Max had to enjoy this. She had to cherish every single moment of every single second with them – especially since she, herself, was torn on which path to take once this was all over.

Because the pink haired genius had worked hard in her studies, she unsurprisingly reaped opportunities of receiving the best education across the country and world. Nine acceptance letters currently sat back home on the kitchen countertop – each waiting expectantly for a response that at this time Gibson couldn't give. Gotham University, Yale, Princeton, Harvard, Duke, Vanderbilt, Dartmouth, Oxford, and Cambridge. Of those nine, Max's attentions found themselves achingly torn between Oxford, Vanderbilt, and of course…Gotham. Though, often Gibson wondered who she'd really be attending Gotham University for. Herself? Or a certain Dark Knight? Either way, whether she left or stayed the others wouldn't – if Max was going to say goodbye it was going to be with style.

Chelsea skipped through the door first, dragging her flamboyantly decorated luggage before pausing as she took in the sheer brilliance of their room as Dana and Blade soon followed behind her: on the fifth floor, the accommodation sat directly off a busy boardwalk looking out onto a nearby beach with a spacious balcony. The travel agency managed to get the students quartered in a Hilton right down the street from the Cruise site. If you looked out the doors, you could see the massive vessel docked and waiting to be boarded. Blade bent over the large black dresser to stare at her reflection in the large mirror, pushing up her perky boobs and tracing a pinky along the outline red lips. "God, I'm so euphor to be off that twipping plane!" ("Euphor" was slang for a variation that basically meant "intensely happy").

"Ugh, swear!" agreed Dana with an exasperated growl as the Asian teen sauntered past the blonde friend, heading for the balcony to get a better view of the Florida paradise that would be all theirs…for the day anyway. " _Bievenidos_ offers a lot of services, but they need one hell of a tune up." There wasn't a word in the dictionaries of the planet capable of stressing the intensity of the girls' concurrence. The flight was _supposed_ to be nonstop – first of all – but there were some…complications. For one thing: the kids didn't get to board the flight until two hours later than expected; and when they finally did board, the plane was stuck on the tarmac for another hour and a half due to conflicts with scheduling because of the other flights constantly coming in and out of the airport. The teens somehow managed to make the best of the beyond shitty and ridiculous situation… _until_ the plane had to make an unexpected pit stop in South Carolina for something or other – where the students had to wait for another two hours just to board and finish the trip.

Chelsea practically hissed, running a hand through her nape of the neck blonde locks with negative gusto. "I swear, they're going to get one hell of a review when all this is over. Shitheads."

At the other end of the room, Dana reached out and pulled open the glass doors, allowing a swirling rush of fresh Florida air to fill the room that caused all four girls to freeze and stare into the outside world. In that instant, all of their turmoil and angers about the trip came to an almost magical halt. Regardless of the method, they were actually here. They were actually on their final senior trip. "Wow…" whispered Blade as she stood up from admiring her own reflection in the mirror, her voice truly filled with humility and realization. "This…really is the end…isn't it?"

The girls stood there in silence, looking at the floor as the quiet and weight of the situation weighed heavily on them. There was a soft sniffle from the bed, and when Dana, Chelsea, and Blade looked over to Max, they were absolutely shocked to see Max looking back at each of them with glassy eyes and a nostalgic smile as she wiped away a tear that threatened to spill over. "I really love you guys," Gibson said so softly it was almost inaudible.

Chelsea grabbed Blade and Dana's hands and ran straight for the bed shouting dramatically: "MAAAAAAAAX!" All four bodies collided and fell back onto the mattress in a jumble of curses and squeals.

"CHELSEA, WHAT THE HELL?!"

"OWWWW!"

"YOU'RE SQUISHING ME!"

"GET YOUR ELBOW OUT MY BOOB!"

"GET YOUR KNEE OUT OF MY-!"

"YOU LOVE IT!" Chelsea wrapped her arms around Max and looked her best friend deep into those brown eyes alongside a knowing smirk. Cunningham knew exactly what Max was feeling – it was a thought that all of them had at some point or another grieved heavily over…and probably still would. "No matter where we go, or what we do, we'll still be friends-."

"Best friends!" corrected Dana as she wiggled her way to Max's other side, blowing a strand of disheveled hair from her face.

"- _best friends_ ," edited Cunningham with a snicker, "forever. Always."

Max snorted. "Promise?"

"Promise," echoed Tan, tucking her arms around Max's waist and snuggling deeper into her gaming counterpart. A comfortable quiet and peace enveloped them all.

"Besides," added Blade comically as she shifted and sat on Max's waist with each arm looped through one of Chelsea and Dana's, "there's no one else in the WORLD who can handle our level of crazy. I may be a slightly stuck up, shallow, self-righteous hag – but you girls love me anyway."

"Not that it's not hard…" sassed Chelsea, earning a slap on the shoulder.

"ANYWAYS," continued Blade with a roll of the eyes. "I appreciate you guys so much. I love you guys so much. There's no way that this is the end because, well…I can't _live_ without you bitches!"

The girls giggled and pulled themselves deeper into the hug upon the mattress, exclaiming a variety of "I love you's" and laughs and curses of some manner of discomfort. But they put up with it anyway just to enjoy this moment together. Well, that was the plan at least. A few minutes passed before a voice from ahead of them asked: "Soooo, should we say something? Orrrr-?"

"-Join in?" replied a second voice, obviously smiling…and a little hopeful. The girls looked up to find Nelson and Terry standing against the dresser with both arms folded across their chests and smirks clearly on their faces. "You girls having fun?" asked Terry with a raised brow.

Nelson added mischievously: "Should we set up a camera?"

Chelsea gave Blade a look. "Blade?"

"Yes?" replied the white haired beauty as her head gave a slight tilt.

"Do you mind pulling a 'me'?"

Blade sat up and stretched. "Not at all, sugar." In one swift movement the girl reached back both arms, grabbed the boys by their wrists, and roughly pulled them forward – sending the two guffawing teens flying onto the mattress and adding themselves onto the already dysfunctional pile of bodies.

"OH MY GAWD, CHELSEA!"

"WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS BLAMING ME?! IT WAS BLADE THIS TIME!"

"YOU TOLD ME TO DO IT!"

"THIS IS TOO MUCH!"

"I repeat! OWWWWWW!"

"I'm too jetlagged for this shit…"

"SHHHH! YOU'RE GOING TO GET US KICKED OUT!"

"NELSON GET YOUR HAND OFF MY THIGH!"

"…That's not my hand…"

"OH MY GAWD, MOVE!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

The noise level was absolutely insane – you could hear the commotion a whole floor up and below. Most of the other hotel occupants didn't necessarily mind, though. It was the middle of the day and whatever was happening on that floor was filled with hilarity, making quite a few of the other guests actually lose their own minds with laughter. Still, this was a hotel, and there were some who felt the disturbance to be rather…unnecessary. Howie and Mr. Jake came storming into the room with frowns of the utmost disapproval on their faces, both prepared to scold the group of rambunctious teens on their careless recklessness. But when the two saw the strange glob of bodies – some of which looked to be in rather…erotic in nature positions – both males froze in horror. The teens on the bed never even noticed the entrance of the two initially until Dana looked over someone's shoulder and stiffened with a holler. Time came to an automatic standstill as the group stared back at the two new occupants. Some of their faces were shocked, terrified even; others a little more diabolical or uncaring. Mr. Thompson didn't even want to address it – he didn't even have the _words_ to address it. _THIS_ was beyond his mental capability…and quite frankly? His paygrade. Jake held up his hands as an indication that he never saw any of this, slowly backing out the room before turning on his heels in the direction from whence he came. Only Howie remained – speechless and turning red as beet…and then, a single flow of blood came pouring absentminded and uncontrollably out of his nose.

"HAHAHAHA!"

"OH MY GAWD, HOWIE!"

"Sooo, you joining in or what?"

Blood poured out of the other nostril. "…OH SHIT! CAN I?!"

"…Chelsea, you're going to give him a heart attack…"

* * *

He was pissed – severely pissed. The pure and blemish-less rage in Captain Benjamin J. Simpson's eyes was so potent that every sailor he happened upon literally jumped out of the way to avoid suffering their captain's anger themselves. Captain Simpson stepped into an elevator within the engine room and pressed a button; moments later the transport unit ascended the staff elevator shaft upwards for The Bridge. To his right was Staff Captain Ortega Flores – whose expression practically mirrored his longtime friend's. Both men were well into their 50s; mature in thought and body. Unlike most captains, these two didn't let the comfort of their rank make them soft. Both men worked out every single day and it showed through their dress downs in an almost intimidating fashion. Being part of the _Bienvenidos_ line made the lifestyle choice a good one. Things always seemed to be going wrong, and the friends had come to find out that every single hand was needed when life started to capsize around them. It was one thing to instruct someone on what to do – it was another to be able to do it yourself. In short, both men were very hands on with their ship and crew…they preferred it that way…it _needed_ to be that way. "This is ridiculous…" murmured Simpson as the elevator finally reached the Bridge and both officers filed out. The available system management crew watched their superiors walk beyond them and disappear into the Captain's Cabin. To say the air was filled with tension was an absolute understatement.

"I've absolutely had it, Ben," exclaims Ortega as the door slams. Benjamin stormed around his desk and lowered into the large office chair before reaching for a notebook and pulling the desk phone close, flipping through the pages. Ortega sat in a cushioned leather chair opposite the Captain and crossed his legs and folded his arms – continuing: "We can't sail. It would be too risky and irresponsible." Benjamin grunted in response. "I don't understand why they're doing this to us…" pondered Flores with a rub of his thick and full black beard, brown eyes narrowing. " _El Toro, La Bella Paloma,_ and _Mariposa_ have long needed to be grounded for repairs…"

"They were," cut in Benjamin with a scowl that reflected in the Captain's blue eyes as he took off his hat and ran a frustrating hand through his blonde hair. Unlike his comrade, Benjamin remained bare faced and smooth – it somehow worked for him though: adding to his usually stern and resolved demeanor.

"So WHY?" asked Ortega with a toss of the hand, leaning forward in the chair. "Why are they even making the _Mariposa_ go out?"

Simpson growled in annoyance. "You know damn well why…" The Captain caught how cold his tone must have been and looked up with an apologetic stare.

But the Staff Captain merely waved it off, knowing that the frustration was directed towards the situation and not himself. Simpson couldn't stop the smile that spread across his lips. "Claro que sì," responded Flores, leaning back into the chair and interlocking his fingers as if everything had suddenly become clear. "Greed…"

Because of vessel's issues in the past, Captain and Staff Captain Simpson and Flores had made it their mission to ensure everything on the ship – from the propellers to the bathroom sinks – was in tip top shape before sailing off on what was supposed to be their last tour with _Bienvenidos_ for a while. Well, the tour should've ended when the inspection reports came back, but a certain shithead apparently wanted to squeeze a little more money out of customers for one last time. So far the old girl was holding together quite nicely – which was a miracle seeing as how she had been around since the early 2000's. Still, on this day, Simpson decided to head down to the engine room for one final check in. How he'd wished that he'd hadn't…

Sarai Jackson was the _Mariposa_ 's Chief Engineer – and one of the best when it came to this line of work. She'd familiarized herself with the mechanics of vessels that went as far back as the early 1900's. It's why _Bienvenidos_ invested so much into her. Sarai had started out as a little black girl from Detroit with the humblest of beginnings; sometimes even now at the age of 40 the young woman couldn't believe the life she'd made for herself. But things had changed since _Bienvenidos_ took her under their wing. A life that she once found refreshing and adventurous had become a nightmare filled with frustration simply because the company was an absolute dreg when it came to taking the proper care of their ships. Jackson had been complaining for years that the liners were in desperate need of repair and inspection, and a few moments ago as the young woman scowled at the two men, she had never been more right. Sarai wore nothing more than a pair of jean overalls and a tank top with large work boots, her dark brown hair in a fluffy curls as her large gloved hands were folded across her small chest with an enormous wrench within her palms. She had been covered in grease and grime from working hands on trying to get the mechanics properly prepped for tomorrow…That's when she had found a problem.

"We can't sail tomorrow, or any day soon for that matter," Jackson had said dead faced – the wrench bouncing in her hand in irritation. Her workers in the background watched; some even being brave enough to stop their duties and approach for a listen. The only reason she didn't knock them upside their heads with the nearest bolt switch was because they shouldn't have had to work – not with what she'd found. "The engine is shot. She ain't dead yet, but about halfway there she's going to be."

Benjamin had looked at the massive engine and hesitated for a moment before asking the obvious – and stupid – question: "Can you fix it?"

Chief Engineer Sarai scowled so hard, Simpson was sure the devil himself must've felt fear of what the woman was thinking. "What do you think I've been doing?" Sarai snapped, looking the men up and down in indication. "Having tea time with the fucking Queen of England?"

"Now Sarai," began Flores as he tried to make his voice grow stern. Big mistake.

Jackson turned on him then, making the man take an involuntary step back. "Don't you 'Now Sarai' me, Ortega. You may spew all that control and rank shit up there but down _here_? Down here this is MY ship. Know why? Because every move I make affects the lives of hundreds or thousands of people." Regardless of being an independent Black Woman and one tough cookie, it wasn't that Jackson had a problem with authority – not at all. She'd be the quickest to defend her Captains than anybody else on this ship; and the fastest to heed their orders. But this was different. Something was off that had the woman on edge and everyone below – including her superior officers – could feel it. Jackson had put down the wrench and took a deep breath before relaxing her posture and regaining some of the control that had rightfully slipped away from her. "Ben, Ortega?" the woman had begun with a pleading gaze, motioning for the massive engine. "Look, I'm sorry. But we've got a problem here…a really big problem."

Benjamin finally found the number he was looking for in the notebook, picked up the phone's receiver, and began to dial. The phone rang for a few moments before the line picked up and a smooth Spanish voice answered, " _Bienvenidos Travel – Sofia speaking._ " By that time, Flores had reached for the second phone on the desk and had the receiver to his ear in order to hear the conversation.

"Hola, Señorita Reyes," he began slowly. "This is Captain Benjamin J. Simpson and Staff Captain Ortega Flores of the _Mariposa_ sailing vessel."

Sofia Reyes was Eugenio Salvarez and _Bievenidos'_ personal secretary. The Latina was average height with flowing black locks that curled beyond her shoulders like a river of death. Her light brown eyes were almost inhuman in a sense that they captured anyone who stared into them with either lust, confusion…or fear. Her angular facial features betrayed the woman's beauty as her thin body with perky breasts, and thighs so thick she was almost an animated character rather than a woman, seduced any man with a single step down the hall. Women hated her – not because of her beauty, but because the woman had a tendency to use it for such criminal means. Many employees came to learn that it wasn't always Eugenio they had to fear, but his sinfully beautiful counterpart instead. " _Ah, buenos tardes Captains,_ " answered the secretary evenly as she looked up from her manicured claws. _"How may I help you?"_

Benjamin paused to stare at his friend before stating, "We need to speak with Señor Salvarez."

Sofia narrowed her brows cautiously after waving off a temp who'd just brought her a cup of tea. _"About?"_

Ortega's face began to burn with impatience as he cut in a little harshly, "What does it matter? We need to speak with him."

Reyes smirked, admiring the Staff Captain's vigor – foolish as it was. _"Señors, try to understand, por favor. Surely you can imagine that Mr. Salvarez is a very busy man. As his secretary and personal assistant, it is my job to relay calls to him. To do so, I must know the nature of said calls in case he finds them of little importance in the moment. It is also, at times, my duty to personally decide whether or not the issue is worth delivering to Salvarez at all._ " Sofia paused before adding with a smile, _"He does not have time for…trivial matters_. _Sooo, you can either tell me what this is about, or hang up the phone-,"_ and then the woman suddenly ultimatums so darkly, the coldness practically passes through the phone and down both men's spines, _"-and stop. Wasting. My time…"_

Silence filled the line as both men, obviously caught off guard, remained speechless at the female secretary's abrupt hostility. The superior officers eyed one another for what felt like an eternity until Simpson cleared his throat and began to divulge the situation at hand: "Our engine is in no condition for travel."

Reyes hesitated. That could be problematic. Without second thought, she pulled open one of the desk's drawers and withdrew a glass pad that held all the data on this particular ship. With a touch of a button, the glass animated with strings of light and words as Sofia's fingers began scanning through charts, notes, and other data. _"Is this speculation, Captain? Or do you have hard proof?"_

Ortega felt insult rising like bile in the deepest part of his gut. "Our Chief Engineer Sarai Jackson evaluated the engine herself. She's a reputable source – Salvarez knows this."

" _I have Ms. Jackson's notes right in front of me, Sir. There is no annotation of-."_

"Whatever you data you have goes back to the results of the inspection some many months ago. These details are more recent," cut in Simpson, thrumming his fingers against his own desk. "Jackson did a primary examination of the engine today, moments ago. We always run system tests before a sail. Through her analysis she found an extensive problem within the engine core components that seem to have accelerated the engine's deteriorating state. We're assuming the rate of deterioration accelerated as a result of our last sail, which was a more extensive journey than _Mariposa_ had been undergoing. Of course, we stressed to Salvarez that she wasn't meant for such long distant sailing like _El Toro_ is. But, unfortunately, that went right out of his ear." Reyes scowled as Benjamin continued, "According to our Chief Engineer, the auxiliary coolant system that kicks in when the engine reaches a certain temperature has completely malfunctioned. As a result-."

" _-due to the interminable stress and temperature, the engine will undoubtedly overheat and shut down – almost certainly after the excessive heat and pressure causes the device to explode,"_ finished Sofia with an informative hum as she placed her knuckles beneath her jaw in thought. Evaluating the data made the matter all too clear. Typically, though, there always laid some manner of solution – even miniscule – to every problem. This was what Sofia was currently searching for on the computer tab; so far with no favorable results. The secretary pondered; eyes darting along the small screen and assessing figures before her, trying to decide whether there was a way around the engine malfunction, or if _Mariposa_ would have to be benched after all. Of course, Eugenio wouldn't like that: but it was better than having another major lawsuit on his hands. Reyes sighed in defeat, about to tell the Captains to shut down the tour…when something caught the woman's peripheral…and immediate attention… _Interesting_ , she thought to herself.

"Uh…yes. That is correct." Captain Simpson blinked in a somewhat pleasant shock. Apparently the _Bienvenidos_ head secretary and administrator was skilled at far more than answering phone calls and scheduling appointments – yet the Captain couldn't shake the sudden twinge of discomfort that realization brought him. "I'm glad you understand the severity of our situation."

A situation indeed. But…Sofia Reyes tapped the screen for a couple more seconds before turning it off and spinning to the side in her desk, getting a good look of her gorgeous outside view. _"Yes, that does have the capability to turn into a very big problem – but thankfully it is fixable in a way that will keep us on schedule."_

Ortega's mouth dropped in disbelief. If it were physically possible, his bottom jaw would have been on the floor like some comical cartoon character. "Wha-WHAT?!"

Sofia crossed her legs and traced her nails along the wooden edge of the desk. _"The Mariposa is an old vessel, and according to my information – unlike the El Toro or even La Bella Paloma – Mariposa still has a very unique power system."_ She pauses for effect. _"She still has her ability to run on heat or steam…correct?"_ When they said nothing, Sofia smirked – knowing that she had them. According to the schematics, right in the Engineering room on the opposite end of the ship was the vessel's original engine. In fact, its stockpile of coal was always refreshed and filled just in case the main and new electrical based engine wasn't functioning properly. It was a brilliant failsafe to keep that old hunk of junk perfectly intact within the _Mariposa_. _"Your answer is simple, gentlemen,"_ the secretary practically purred. _"You can please our guests and keep them safe and not lose your paycheck. Simply have your Chief Engineer switch from electric to steam or heat – whatever old school capabilities she has – off and on during the trip. It may delay your passengers by a few hours, but will keep the primary engine from overheating. Since virtually every passenger is traveling through Bienvenidos, you can inform them that as a courtesy due to the delay: we will handle all of their bookings for once they get off the ship. We'll even give them a refund for their first night's stay, and a voucher for a free dinner or two at an exclusive restaurant."_ Sofia ran her sharp fingertips through her silky black hair. _"Problem solved."_

He couldn't believe it. In spite of knowing the potential – no, the highly likely – dangers, they were still planning on going through with this? Captain Simpson had thought he'd heard it all when it came to the shadiness and greed of _Bienvenidos Travel_ , but this definitely took the cake. Benjamin couldn't stand by it. He _wouldn't_ stand by it. "…No." He suspected that Secretary Reyes looked just as shocked as Ortega did. The man inhaled sharply and sat up straight with an intimidating demeanor as if it were the solid ground of maintaining his resolve.

Reyes stiffened, sitting up her in seat and staring at the phone dialing pad as if it were the Captain himself…and as if he had completely lost his mind. _"…Lo siento, Captain Simpson. But…what did you just say?"_

"I said 'No'. I'm not willing to risk the lives of my charges – passenger _or_ employee. _Bienvenidos_ may be the head honchos, but at the end of the day I am the one responsible for what happens on this ship. A true Captain cannot, in good intention or knowledge, put lives so arrogantly and ignorantly in danger." If Ortega could leap across the table and shout praises to his comrade's name to the high heavens, he would have done so immediately. Instead, he maintained some level of self-control and waited to see what response the stuck up secretary would have to THAT!

" _And just who are you, Captain Simpson?"_ The older man stiffened. _"Do you cut your check? Or the checks of the men beneath you? Do you make the decisions for this company as if you were important enough to sit at our table and be heard? You are, in truth, none of these things – so the question becomes: Who are you?"_ Sofia stood to her feet and leaned over the table – her seductive tone had gone out the window as a cloud of superiority and heartless cruelty danced through her body and voice like a summer breeze. Her face was so contorted in brewing anger and hostility that the temp who had stepped outside of the elevator with a pile of paperwork, immediately backed back into the transport and pressed the button multiple times until the doors closed and returned her to the main floor. _"I'll tell you who you are, Benjamin. You're a captain. Simple as that. Nothing special. Do you know how many other captains there are out there? Some who are much younger and desperate for the money you make? More than your senior citizen turning mind could ever imagine. You are replaceable. If you want to be more specific, you're a replaceable tool. Now, if you want to step off then fine. Go ahead. I'll have someone much younger and inexperienced ready to take your place. But you know what? You won't be alone."_

Simpson's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

Sofia loved toying with him, especially since her threats were never empty. In fact, she didn't make threats – she made promises. She could feel the pleasure in having such absolute control over another person – especially a person who should have been of importance – getting the woman physically excited. _"If you walk off now, then I can only assume that every single person under your command is just as rebellious and insubordinate as you are. Like a disease. I'd have no choice but to get an all new crew. In fact, if we could be met with such resistance now, who's to say it won't happen again? I can't afford to take that risk, Ben. Ever. If you leave, you're fired – and so will be all the rest of your staff. Can you really be okay that? Can you hold the termination of hundreds of jobs on your conscience just because you weren't willing to try another method?"_

Ortega interjects, hollering out loud at how diabolical and cruel she was being. "Have you lost your mind?! You can't do that! How dare you? I demand to speak with Mr. Salvarez."

Sofia bit her lip at the new player. _"Mr. Salvarez gave the exact same order for the El Toro last year, Captain Flores. Don't you remember that entire ship getting cleaned out? All because their Captain thought he knew better on the eve of a very important sail. Your job is drive the fucking ship, sirs,"_ growled the woman. _"And in this day and age with such easy technology at our disposal, anybody can do that. Let's be perfectly clear gentlemen: You were prime rib at the time we chose you, but even rib can spoil and be thrown out. At the end of the day? We own you, your crew, and that ship…Don't ever think that you aren't expendable…"_

When Secretary Reyes hung up the phone some minutes later, needless to say she had _convinced_ Captain Simpson to consider her alternative method in regards to the engine. Just to give it a shot. She'd said, "At least try it out. If conditions still manage to deteriorate, then we'll consider returning to port. But let's not make things more complex than they have to be…for all of us." Sofia smiled and stood from her imported mahogany desk with a stretch just as the doors of Mr. Salvarez's office opened and his afternoon appointment came stepping out, shaking the CEO's hand and making promises of meeting up again to discuss further into new ideas and partnerships that would strengthen their companies. Sofia smiled pleasantly, seeing them off across the hall to the elevator with sweet goodbyes. Once the doors closed, the secretary turned on her heels and met eyes with Eugenio – her part-time boss and full-time lover. "Good afternoon, Señor Salvarez." She slouched her hips and traced a hand up along the woman's thighs.

Eugenio smirked lasciviously as the young corporate boss leaned against the office doorway. "Good afternoon, Reyes. Has the afternoon been profitable?" He watched as she approached, noting the way her hips swayed from side to side in an almost hypnotic motion. She traced her opposite hand down from the collarbone to beneath the breast, giving the edge of the V-necked dress at the chest a tug enough that exposed more of the woman's breast. His groin tightened significantly. Oh fuck, he hoped the schedule was clear for the rest of the day. The only thing Eugenio wanted to make time for was her.

"Mmm," hummed the secretary in thought as she got closer. "Captain Simpson and Staff Captain Flores of the _Mariposa_ called. Sarai Jackson found a…issue with the engine."

Salvarez's brows narrowed. "Serious?" This was the last thing he needed right now.

"It could have been," answered Sofia honestly. "Until," she added once she'd finally reached him, placing a hand on his chest and pressing her curvaceous body completely against his, "I looked over the schematics. I found a way to make it work…" Sofia's lips found her boss's neck, kissing and suckling on the sensitive flesh of the weak spot she knew all too well in a way that made the grown man moan as his knees turned weak.

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," he panted between breaths, feeling her push him back inside the office. As he stepped back until he could reach no further after bumping into the edge of his desk, Sofia lingered behind to close the doors and lock them – only then turning with lustful eyes.

"Well, the fool threatened to not sail…"

"He WHAT?!" roared Salvarez – but his anger quickly quelled when Sofia reached behind and unzipped her dress. The ever handsome CEO swallowed expectantly while the woman pulled off the straps from her shoulder and down; shimmying those smooth and mesmerizing hips until the fabric fell the rest of the way and offered view of nothing more than her perfect body in a see-through bra and panty set…black…laced. At the sight of her brown areolas beneath the material, Eugenio fumbled with the belt looped between his pants.

"Yes," she continued. "But I threatened to fire him…and the entire crew." Sofia shrugged. "Needless to say, everything is once again going according to schedule." With the placement of her palms on his chest, the man jumped onto the hardwood as the Latina sex magnet began to shove everything off of it and out of the way. With a seductive hum, Reyes unbuckled his pants and yanked them, and his unmentionables, straight down from his waist to Eugenio's ankles with such force he hissed out in glorious ecstasy. The man reached for her panties, but the female slapped his hand away with a growl. "Uhn uhn," Sofia chastised. "I'm in fucking control..."

"Shit…" moaned the Spaniard, his hardened shaft already standing upward at full attention and giving an anxious twitch – desperately, _impatiently_ awaiting for her.

Sofia climbed up the desk, still clothed in her undergarments, and hovered over her boss before gently lowering her lace covered jewel upon his tower, flattening it against the male's stomach. Reyes could see the confusion on Salvarez's face, but smirked wickedly nonetheless. She gave an appreciative hum as the feel of his extension brushed against her most sensitive nub in a way that sent a shiver up her spine. Play time…Reyes placed a hand directly on Eugenio Salvarez's throat as her hips began to slowly grind against his waist – and the thing in between them. The woman was perfectly centered as she teased him, causing Eugenio's head to fall back with a labored breath while the man's hips bucked against her, matching each of her motions with his own thrusts. Panties or not, he could feel the moisture, making the friction between them smoother and all the more pleasurable. He'd been waiting for her all damn day, but already after just a few moments of the girl not-so-dry humping him, he was ready to bust. "Ohhh baby," the young and greedy boss moaned as the grip on his throat grew tighter and her pumps more defined. His eyes rolled. One hand reached and pulled down a cup in her bra, allowing one of her breasts to fall out, completely exposed. Instantaneously he sat up and captured Sofia's hardened nipple in his mouth – suckling on it and lapping his tongue upon the point like a dehydrated dog. Though she delightfully squeaked at the sensation, Sofia forced him down.

"I told you I was in control!" she rebuked. "Now you've got to be punished." Her hips shoved harder against him and speed quickened with such force that the desk began to move and clang noisily against the floor. Eugenio hollered out and tremored, immediately regretting his decision as the woman's moans grew louder and wilder – matching his own in a sexy way that drove the man unbearably closer to the edge of sexual gratification.

"No baby," he gasped, gripping both her hips as his head shook. "Don't fucking make me cum yet…!" Though the man's voice said "no", his body had a mind of its own; yearning for release as his hands forced her thrusts to move quicker while hips pumped upwards.

Sofia threw back her head, claws scratching straight into his shirt and through the flesh, leaving streaks of red. What started off as a tease for him had transformed into the utmost pleasure for her. Eugenio smirked internally. If he was going to suffer, then so was she. Raising his feet up onto the table for momentum, Salvarez squeezed the woman's waist and began to jackhammer upwards against her sheathed jewel. The sensations and tingles danced through her core in insurmountable waves of passion that left the woman inept of finishing what she'd started. All of her control and games went completely out the window as she arched against Eugenio and let him rock her world out of orbit. "Ohhh! Fuck!" Sofia screamed. "Yessss baby! Fuck me! Don't you stop, don't you fucking stop! I'm cumming! I'm-!"

"Damnit!" With one final push he was over the edge. Sofia quickly reached down, pulled her undergarments to the side, and shoved Eugenio inside of her just as he came. The additional feel of her moistened arena engulfing him caused the man to holler out with a groan that made his pelvis pound deeper – spending every ounce of seed. Instantly her own orgasm intensified with his entrance, causing her to thrust harder against him as her walls clenched and pulsated with unspoken pleasure before finally the rush winded down – leaving them both toppled against the desk exhaustedly. Once Eugenio finally caught his breath, he groaned in disappointment and – perhaps even – shame. "I wasn't ready…"

"That was the point," sassed Sofia with a laugh, rolling off of him and bending over to pick up her dress. Sliding one foot after another inside, she stood up straight and looked over her shoulder out the giant glass window, and exploded in laughter. Outside of the window, floating in the air on a state of the art bracket, was none other than two window washers…both completely stupefied by what they'd just seen. Eugenio let out what sounded like the mixture of a groan and guffaw. With her dress perfectly intact once more, Sofia opened back up the office doors and turned to face her boss who was still laying on the desk, entirely spent. "I suggest you clean up, Sir," the woman offered. "You have a video call in fifteen minutes."

"Wait…what?" His head sat up with absolute terror in his gaze. They were finished? Already? Well, it's not like he could continue right away – but…wait? VIDEO CALL?! "Sofia!"

And with nothing more but a devious smile, Sofia closed the door…She'd still won the game.

* * *

After spending the whole remainder of the afternoon exploring the boardwalk and going to the beach, the Hill High students had finally returned back to the Hilton for the evening to rest before their excursion in the morning to a private resort on some solitary Mexican island. Jake Thompson, sure that now things were going to settle down and that he'd be able to take the evening easy, retired early to his room. Little did he know that he had been completely wrong. With the Teach out of commission, Nelson decided the group needed a proper sendoff prior to boarding the ship – and what better method than a Nash styled party? By nine o'clock Nash, Terry, and Howie's suite was bubbling over with at least thirty teen bodies that rocked to the beat of up tempo music, and drowned their excitement in alcohol. Somehow though, the partying kids managed to keep the noise level to a minimum to avoid getting in trouble, and were able to enjoy the night away carelessly.

Originally the girls had agreed that partaking in such a frivolous and unnecessary celebration was out of the question – after all, not only would they be on a cruise and island for a few days with plenty opportunities to cut up, but they had to be on the ship at 7 a.m., which meant the kids would have to wake up extra early just to get ready. In the end though, the fun next door sounded absolutely sinful and before any of them knew it, the girls found themselves slipping into the room to dance the night away. Drinks, music, laughter, and fun engulfed the atmosphere as everyone enjoyed themselves. By the time the clock read well after one in the morning, the group of friends found themselves out on the balcony overlooking the Florida night city lights: Dana leaned against one side of McGinnis while Max was tucked under his opposite arm holding Chelsea's hand, the blonde sharing the company of Nelson with Blade, while Howie sighed whimsically and draped over the bars – far more drunk than he would have liked to admit.

All evening, Terry had his eyes on Max as much as he could. If he wasn't at her side, he watched her from across the room, or walked past and gave her skin a soft touch of reassurance. He knew that maybe he was overdoing it, but what McGinnis felt couldn't exactly be put into words. If someone were to ask him _why_ he thought so much about Max, he didn't know whether the answer was simply because she was his best friend…or maybe something else. When Max got sick last year, Terry was beside himself – and it wasn't just worry about her condition that had him on edge, but what led up to it. Just a couple days before the two best friends had gotten into a fight because Terry felt like Max was overdoing it to help him out. The vigilante thought she shouldn't invest so much time into his lifestyle because of the threat it posed for her. _She_ felt that it was her responsibility. And when McGinnis, angered, asked why she would be so stupid to risk her education and future by hacking into federal databanks, Max had exclaimed that "love" was why. That was when Terrence first truly realized since he and Dana broke up just how much Max meant to him. In that split moment it had become overbearing and confounding. He had left and wouldn't return any of her calls or messages. He was avoiding her – and she knew it. McGinnis had come to terms that maybe some distance between the two was for the best…until Max got sick and passed out.

Guilt tore away at him like a disease as he sat there beside her hospital bed for countless days as she struggled to recover; and when she'd finally had gotten out of the red, he still wouldn't leave her side. That was when he'd gotten himself in trouble…While Max was still in bed sleep one early morning, Batman had flown in through the window to check on her. He watched over her, and as he sighed in relief, his name uttered from between her lips in the world of slumber. Before he'd knew it, he had bent over…and kissed her. Over and over the lad tried to convince himself that they couldn't be together. Terry had made that mistake once already with Dana, and he would've been a fool to do it again. And yet, there were strong feelings that tugged at the teen's heartstrings in ways that made it impossible to forget what had happened that night. And as much as he swore he could leave Max alone…he couldn't.

As the party began to wind down and the attendees slowly dispersed, McGinnis walked with Max down the hall to grab a candy bar out of the floor's vending machine. The two walked in comfortable silence for quite some time until arriving to the machine and Max fiddled through her pockets for some change. "You really didn't have to walk with me, you know?" confirmed Max, gazing through the glass to assess her options.

McGinnis shoved a hand in his pockets. "I know, but I wanted to. Is that a crime?"

"I mean…" teased Gibson with a snicker, earning her a playful shove on the shoulder. She decided on a KitKat bar and bounced on her feet as the candy fell down the chute and into her hands. The two headed back towards the room side by side in silence and Max bit her lip. "Hey Ter?"

"Yeah?"

"…What are we doing?"

McGinnis visibly stiffened. "Walking?"

"No," stated Max, coming to a standstill in the middle of the hall as she stared at Terry with vast seriousness. "I mean: what are we _doing_? You and me?"

Terry sighs. "Max…don't."

"Don't what?"

"Do this. You know I can't do this…" His blue eyes stared at her, brows arched upwards, pleading. All Terry wanted to do was enjoy this time that they had together for as long as was possible.

He couldn't face this yet. He was still fighting with his feelings. Max knew it…and painfully understood. "I get it…" Gibson took a deep breath and walked down the hall a little further by a few feet until she stood outside of her room's door. With her key just inches from the scanner, Max bit her lip and looked back at her best friend who was still grounded in the spot where she'd left him. "I get it, Ter," she said. "You're scared about what could happen; about all the things that could go wrong. But, I mean…it's kind of hard when we're so close like this."

Terry's shoulders heaved a little. "I know…"

"It's kind of confusing…"

"I know."

"…and it kind of hurts." Terry said nothing and Max ran a hand through her hair in mild frustration before smiling a little. "We don't have a lot of time left, Terry…We have to, at some point, decide. I mean, if we don't do it soon then – well – there may never…" McGinnis stared at her with an emotion she didn't she'd ever seen before, and it silenced Max in an instant. With no more words to say, she scanned the key card and disappeared into her room. As soon as the door closed, the first thing Max saw was Dana leaning against the wall with folded arms. Blade was washing her face in the bathroom and Chelsea was already knocked out in one of the beds.

"You want my advice?" asked Tan with a blank face. "If you wait too long to fix it, he'll grow comfortable with things being the way they are. And if that happens you'll only have one option…" Dana tilted her head a little and Max got the point her friend was trying to make. Tan placed a reassuring hand on Gibson's shoulder. "You can't wait on him forever."

Max smirked emptily. "Somehow, I think that might be his plan…I'm going on the balcony for a bit…"

Dana nodded. "Don't stay up too late, we've gotta be up in a couple hours." She headed for the empty bed and plopped on the mattress, reaching for the remote to change the television station – acting as if nothing had even happened.

Max headed outside the balcony doors and sat down, slipping her legs between the bars as the girl finally began to eat her candy bar. Florida was completely different from Gotham – it was like a world of new things that refreshed Max on a spiritual level. As she bit into the KitKat, Max wondered if leaving Gotham – and Terry and the lifestyle they had been living for a few years now – would feel as good as it did sad? She wondered if she was capable of loving that feeling…like she was starting to love it now.

McGinnis watched her silently from within the confines of his room behind their glass doors…wondering if he could really be okay with the thoughts going through his head. Could he really care about her this much, and still be okay with hurting her? Dana had been different. Tan had initiated the breakup because she had reached a point when she realized that leaving was what was best for her – and he had known then that she was right. But with this? With Max? He didn't have the slightest clue. Max brushed her fingers across her eyes when her face scrunched up a bit, bringing herself back under control…only for it to slip again. She buried her face into her palms, and Terry fought opening the door, jumping across the balconies, and making things right. But in the end he didn't – the voice in the back of his head told the boy that he _couldn't_ …

And that was the hardest part of it all.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello MistFits. Here's the new chapter of Wrecked. Please excuse any typos or grammatical errors. I'm going to try to update a couple more stories this weekend and have them submitted by Monday. Next on my list is **The Tutor** (my first Nax - Nelson/Max - fic). My long term goal is to get a majority of, if not all, these recent fics completed so i can go back and finish up The Hunted Sequel! Anyways, keep your eyes out for The Tutor by Monday_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **WRECKED**

 _ **3**_

Around six a.m., the room's telephone rang loudly – disturbing the knocked out occupants as they protested in unintelligible mumbles and groans of somnolence. No one answered the device, and shortly the disruption stopped and all fell peacefully silent once again. After a few moments, the teens drifted back into the world of slumber, nearly lost there entirely once more until…*RIIINNNNG! RIIINNNNG!*

"GOD DAMNIT!" hollered Chelsea amidst the cries of disapproval and annoyance. The blonde growled and rolled to her left, trampling over Max who yelped at the sensation of Cunningham's elbow digging deep into her ribs.

"CHELSEA!" Max whined, completely winded by the force of her best friend's roll.

Cunningham, her blonde locks disheveled in maddened spikes, reached out a palm and slapped it against the phone's sleek, touchscreen. "WHAT?! Do you have any idea what time it is?!" Instantly a square hologram display lifted into the air, where a gorgeous dark chocolate man with brown dreadlocks smiled politely at the obviously frustrated girl.

"Good morning, ma'am," replied the man coolly with a seductive islander accent. "It's six o'clock. This is your morning wakeup call – courtesy of Mr. Jake Thompson, your instructor." Chelsea hung her head as the collective groan nearly made the receptionist lose his entire composure and burst out in inappropriate laughter. Kids. "Your class is to be dressed and fully packed by seven, and meet downstairs in the Atrium for your private continental breakfast."

Dana sat up immediately and wheeled the hologram into her direction with raised brows. The receptionist clutched a hand to his chest, trying to calm down from the sudden scare the quick movement gave him. "Breakfast? Continental?"

"Isn't that shit _free_?" asked Blade's muffled voice from where her face was planted deep within a pillow.

"Yes ma'am it is," replied the receptionist.

Blade scoffed and rolled over onto her side, obviously insulted at the revelation. "Then it's going to be lame…" Cereal and orange juice. Yaaaay…

The young man, however, smirked. "You might be pleasantly surprised." This _was_ the Hilton after all.

"But!" cut back in Dana as she realized the time and quickly threw the white sheet from her legs in a panic. "They never told us anything about a breakfast. We're supposed to be on the _ship_ at seven! Shit, we're running late as it is, aren't we?! We don't have time for-."

"Unfortunately-," interjected the Hilton employee with an apologetic gaze – making the girls sit up with irritated scowls already loaded judging by his tone. Somehow they had a feeling that this travel company had fucked them all again; and if today was any kind of hell like yesterday, there was no damn way they were staying put! "- _La Mariposa_ – your cruise ship – will not be departing at its original time. As a result, Eugenio Salvarez, the CEO of _Bievenidos Travel_ , has extended a hand to the Hilton, and is paying for your breakfast to…ease your comforts." The teens all gave one another doubtful, yet intrigued looks. "Now, ma'ams," finalized the receptionist. "I must continue making my calls. But, remember: Atrium by seven with all of your belongings and hotel keys. And if there is anything the Hilton can do to make your last moments with us more enjoyable, do not hesitate to call the front desk. My name is Jerome, and I would be happy to service you. Have a wonderful day." Instantaneously the hologram vanished, and the room went nearly black again.

"Well…" stated a masculine voice from the foot of one of the beds, causing the females to jump with a scream, "… _that_ was weird." A form rose, and Max slapped on a nearby light switch to illuminate the intruder. Immediately Nelson Nash's head popped up over the covers as he groggily smiled a good morning to the girls. WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL?!

"Sounds like they're trying to bribe us," theorized the jock with a thoughtful expression. But although his thoughts were important to consider, his position right now was not something the girls were willing to ignore. What happened next proved evident by a chorus of hollers and destruction so boisterous, Terry was jolted awake, leapt out of bed, and practically tore his room's door off its sliding track before making a sharp turn and banging on the entryway for the girls.

"Hey!" he yelled. "What's going on in there? Dana? Chelsea? Blade? MAX?!" Had the bad luck of Gotham city followed them all the way to Florida? Was some Mad Stan type of maniac in there threatening their very lives?! Or an alligator?! He slapped himself mentally for even considering that possibility.

For a brief moment McGinnis resented not throwing on the suit first, but it would have been impossible! His cries grow more desperate as sounds of chaos suddenly come to an eerie quiet. Terry backed up and aimed a fist for the keypad. With just the right amount of force, he'd be able to break it – and the door should open partially if not completely enough for him to slide inside and whoop somebody's ass. The secret vigilante offers his last warning: "Open up! OPEN-!" The door slid unlocked, revealing Nelson Nash looking like he'd just gotten into a brawl with a flock of chickens… _angry_ chickens. "Nelson?!" squeaked McGinnis, his once threatening posture slumping in confusion. "What are you-? _How_ did you-?"

Nash gave McGinnis's shoulder a pat of camaraderie before simply replying: "All you need to know, McGinnis: is that it was worth it. It was ALLLL worth it…" Without another word, the sports junkie limped in glorious defeat (though self-believed victory) into the boys' suite, living Terry at the doorway completely confused, watching the girls get up and start bustling around. His eyes caught sight of Max walking towards the full length mirror in hilarious exasperation. She was wearing a pair of dark grey Hanes Women's Boyfriend Boxer Briefs and a purple Lego Batman's Batgirl tank top. Gibson hadn't noticed him at first, until Chelsea slapped her on the butt and pointed towards the door with a crooked smirk.

Max stared at her male best friend and crush for what felt like an eternity before making her way towards him. McGinnis looked her up and down as she approached, never really having paid attention to how good she looked even at 6 in the morning. Of course, after the kiss, there was a lot of things McGinnis had ignored before that were impossible to overlook now. Max leaned against the doorway as Blade and Dana disappeared in the bathroom – with the door cracked open for eavesdropping purposes. Everyone knew there was a romantic tension between these two; even more so NOW – and the group of friends wanted things to happen smoothly for the male and female besties. Especially Dana. "Hey," greeted Terry warmly once Max had reached him.

"Hey," she replied softer, folding her arms and avoiding eye contact.

Guilt swelled in the Dark Knight and silence passed between them. God knew he felt terrible about what happened – seeing her cry alone last night on the balcony really destroyed him way more than he would have ever wanted it to. He had to make things right, or else he'd end up doing the one thing that McGinnis knew he truly didn't want: lose her. "Listen, Max-," he begins.

But Gibson cuts him off, holding up her hand to silence him. "I'm sorry."

McGinnis's eyes widened, completely taken aback by her sudden, almost uncharacteristic apology. "About what?"

Max sighed and ran a hand through her hair, which had gotten a bit longer than he last remembered. "Last night. I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

McGinnis mirrored her hand through the hair gesture. "Max, stop. I'm the one who needs to be apologizing. I snapped at you. Everything you were saying was right. I guess I just…wanted to hope that we had more time." Max looked up at him, staring the lad straight into his very soul. Terry took her hand into his own and with the other rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess part of me doesn't want things to change. It…ugh...," he huffed in frustration before whispering so softly that Max wasn't even sure she'd heard it: "… _scares_ me." Terrence gave Max an almost unreadable expression – _almost_ unreadable. "And you know _exactly_ why…" For a brief second, his voice held another tone – a tone she usually only heard at night.

"Yeah," replied Max, tucking her left leg behind the right one. "I know why."

"But none of that matters right now. Not yet, anyway," continued her raven headed partner in vigilantism. "For now, I just want to apologize. I don't want you mad at me."

"AS IF SHE EVER COULD BE!" replied Nelson from the safety of his room. Damn bastard was listening in too at the door.

The two longtime friends chuckled for a moment just as the elevator down the hall opened up and out stepped Jake Thompson, knocking on doors to wake the students up so the group could get a move on. Terry looked down the hall at the teacher who locked eyes on the two in disapproval and was now making his way toward them to break up whatever conversation or flirtation that might delay the trip any further than it already had been. McGinnis looked back to Max quickly and wrapped up: "I want us to have fun. I want us to enjoy whatever time left we may have – because – I don't know how things might change when we get back home. I don't want to think about it. I just want to enjoy right _now_ : with all of us together…with you." Max tried to fight her smile, but she didn't stand a chance. "Can we do that? Please?"

"You know, Ter," responded the melanin blessed teen, "you didn't even have to ask." McGinnis grinned wide, took her hand that he had currently captive, and pulled Max towards him – deep into his muscular arms and chest for a warm embrace. Max giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as the Batman's hands made themselves comfortable encompassing the new age Oracle low about her hips.

"Alright you two!" said Thompson as he arrived at the doorway and the youths pulled apart. "We don't have time for this. Save it for the ship. We've got to be downstairs in less than an hour and-," he noticed the two still in their sleepwear and slapped himself across the forehead. God, would he ever catch a break?! No wonder the other teachers didn't jump at the chance to chaperone this nightmare of a trip. "-You're not even dressed yet?! Guyyysssss! Cut me slack here," the young teacher almost desperately pleaded.

Chelsea came around the corner from where she was sitting on the bed and grabbed Max about the stomach from behind just as Dana and Blade were stepping out the bathroom wrapped completely in towels – skin glistening with droplets of water. "Don't worry, Jakey!" chirped Chelsea. "We're going to get on that right now!" Chels began to tug Max back inside. "Take a shower with me, Max."

Nelson and Howie practically fell out of the door that pulled open. Howie stammered uncontrollably. "Sh-sh-show-shower?! TOGETHER?!"

Max blinked. "What? It'll save more time."

Blade walked towards the doorway and rolled her eyes at the shocked group of men. "Oh, _grow up_ , boys! It's not like it's something we've never seen before." Blade smirked playfully and gripped the edge of the towel. "But, I mean, if it'll make you all feel better…" She yanked the towel wide open, revealing everything that had been hidden there. Terry immediately looked away while Nelson and Howie gawked – Howie like a mesmerized calf looking at a new gate, and Nelson out of pure lust. Jake Thompson – ashamed fully for having looked longer than he should have – slammed his palm upon a closing mechanism just inside of the doorway, and hollered as the device speedily shut: "YOU KIDS ARE GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME!"

Blade chuckled. "I am _soooo_ going to rock him out of orbit before this trip is over."

* * *

Fuck this job, fuck this ship, and even more importantly: Fuck Eugenio Salvarez! In the ass, with a spiked dildo. This was the silent mantra that floated amongst each and every crewman upon the _La Mariposa_ this morning as they finished up their final tasks before boarding passengers – much less traveling into open water. Of course, there were some delays even in that.

At 4:15 a.m. this morning, while running a series of what should have been concluding diagnostic tests on the vessel's engine: the pressure within the contraption skyrocketed abnormally – causing an overwhelming flood of hot steam to burst from its mouth like a wind from hell itself. Glass monitors shattered under the heat, and smoke as black as tar billowed from the ship's funnels simultaneously with a rumbling bang that disturbed the quietness on port and all who were there. Sarai Jackson sat in the Captain's Cabin with a heavy, traumatized look on her face. Her face was covered in dirt and sweat, her outfit charred, and hair practically flattened under the weight of her emotional turmoil. Captain Simpson sat across from her solemnly while Captain Flores attempted to hand Jackson a cup of coffee for her nerves…but it was like no one was even there.

Benjamin's shoulders heaved. "Sarai…it's not your fault…"

"You're not the Chief Engineer," answered Jackson, her eyes staring blankly at the desk. "Only _you'd_ believe that."

Ortega placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of the woman whom he secretly (or maybe not so secretly, depending on who was around) had feelings for, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Cariño, por favor. Don't do this to yourself. It wasn't your fault…"

But they all knew trying to comfort her wouldn't make things – wouldn't make the _guilt_ – any less. The destructive results of the malfunction had come out of absolutely nowhere. One minute everything was going fine. Sarai and a couple of her crewmates had gathered around the engine drinking coffee as they chuckled and observed all proper operations checks. Systems were running regularly on the primary unit, giving a sense of faith that perhaps things were actually going to be okay; though they would later realize how false that sense inevitably was. Suddenly, a red light popped up on the control board. Then another, and another. The ground started shaking as a loud screaming sound emanated from the engine. The pressure begun skyrocketing as the gauges started to pop, causing steam to leak around them. Sarai had rushed to the panels, striking a dozen instruments to cool the system down and make an attempt at shutdown, when a rattling noise caught her attention. The young woman had looked to her right and saw a set of pipes swollen beyond belief. _Oh God_ , she remembered thinking. "EVERYBODY RUUUNNNN!" Jackson had screamed. But just as she'd turned and gave the warning, the pipes burst, and burning hot steam flew forth into the engine room as if it rode on the wings of Hades himself. The bodies of the engineers dashed for the nearest doors or elevators, trying to escape the scalding vapor. Sarai had grabbed a newbie who was frozen in his tracks at the approaching chaos, chucking him into an escape hatch just as the doors were closing in on him.

Next thing Sarai knew, she was on the ground, her consciousness fading in and out – having been struck by a panicking engineer and smacking her head upon the metallic floor. Not once had Jackson ever considered the possibility that she'd die on one of her ships…killed by greed…until now. But…

A set of hands gripped the Chief Engineer under the arms and dragged her forward towards the elevator doors. Sarai watched helplessly as Jonas Trenton – the eldest of her crew and the man that she considered family over all these years – tossed his boss and dear friend inside of the elevator with a group of others, and smiled comfortingly at her as the doors closed and smoke engulfed him. The only sounds that filled the elevator shaft were the fading screams of Trenton cooking alive…and the screams of Sarai Jackson as she fought to stop the elevator, to pull those doors open, and save the man that everyone knew was already dead. "Jonas! JONAAAAAAASSSSSSSS!" Her screams would haunt those men in the elevator, and the crewmembers from the upper decks who pulled them out to safety, for the rest of their lives…

"We can't sail, Benjamin," Sarai whispered, pleading, _begging_.

Simpson gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "I _know_ that. But there is literally nothing I can do. With us, or without us, _La Mariposa_ will sail. Salvarez is sure of that."

Sarai slowly rises to her feet. "Then you will have to sail without me…"

Ortega gives Benjamin a look. "Sarai, you know we can't do that. You're the Chief Engineer. And the only other person who was qualified was…Jonas…" Flores takes her hand. "We need you on this one. If anyone can stop this from happening again-."

Sarai yanks her hand from the Staff Captain's grip and gives him a sickened glare. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Jackson hollers. "I couldn't even catch this shit the FIRST TIME! It happened out of the blue. There was no initial warning, and by the time the warning _did_ come, within minutes everything went to literal hell; which tells me that not only do we have a malfunctioning engine and coolant system, but the pressurized system is screwed, and our gauges are obviously twipped as well. I can't keep up with that – no one can. And because of that – no. Because of _Salvarez_ ," growled Sarai with pure hate so strong it nearly terrified the men as to what she would do about it, "a good man is dead…"

Simpson stood and approached Jackson, pain for her evident in his gaze. "But without you, Sarai…there may be more lives than Trenton's that'll be lost…" Sarai's brows arched in agony and terror, and some hours later after the engine room had been cleared, the damage repaired, the body removed, and the necessary calls made, Sarai and her crew were back in the engine room – silent, cold, angry. All of them would do their job to make sure no more lives were lost, but when this was all over, they would make sure that _Bienvenidos Travel_ paid for what they'd done.

* * *

By noon, not only were the Hill High Senior Class hungry again, but they had _finally_ been allowed to board _La Mariposa_ to commence their trip. Of course, everyone was righteously peeved about it – because not only were they late again, but these constant delays were starting to eat away at their vacation time at the resort. At this rate, the cruise would probably end up being four days long instead of two. Max fidgeted on the stairway leading from the dock up to the massive ship's deck; her anxiety was starting to peak and the teen immediately reached inside her pocket and grabbed the small bottle of Xanax. Please God, she thought to herself, do NOT let me have a panic attack on this damn ship…

"It'll be okay, Max," comforted Chelsea, linking her arm through her best friend's. "Everything's going to be okay. I'll be right here with you!" She motioned up ahead where the rest of the friends stood on each side of the railing on the deck, waving at the two and encouraging the girls to join them aboard. Chelsea squeezed Max's arm tighter reassuringly and together they walked up the steps and officially boarded the ship.

It was massive, and beautiful…and surprisingly crowded. Terry narrowed his brows at the sea of people walking the deck, looking around and asking for help. Perhaps _over_ crowded. The young vigilante didn't know much about ships or sea life in general, but McGinnis was pretty positive that you didn't want this many people on a ship – or at the very least, how annoying it must have been. Apparently he wasn't the only one confused by the full vessel as the students murmured amongst one another in mild disappointment. Nonetheless, the group made due with what they had and followed a crewman who had been assigned to the party and guided them around about the deck to help them get familiar with their surroundings, before leading the students and teacher to their floor below deck. _Bienvenidos Travel_ had upgraded the rooms to suites and gave the students their own level in First Class – an attempt to make up for the trouble the travelers had been experiencing. But one thing bothered Terry the most:

As they arrived to the docks, he had noticed a police presence centering around the ship. Smoke – though faint – could still be seen billowing out of the funnels, and the _La Mariposa_ staff seemed to be operating in a stupor-like state – _grieved_ even. When the neo-Great Detective had asked their guide about the police, the young sailor immediately stiffened before informing the group that an older employee had had a heart attack and unfortunately passed away onboard.

Max had given Terry a look, but it wasn't until after the ship broke away from port and the rest of the class was on deck frolicking around, that the two had a moment alone to talk about it. At the very least, any kind of detective work – potential or definite – would take Max's mind off of her discomfort on the vessel. "I don't know about this, Terry," murmured Max inside he and Nash's room, sitting on his bed. "Something isn't right about this ship."

Terry paced. "More like something isn't right about this travel agency," corrected McGinnis with his finger against his chin in thought.

Max raised a brow. "What's the difference?"

"Something tells me? Not as much as we may think." He caught sight of Max's frown of discomfort. "Hey," he urged, taking her hand into his own and pulling her out of the room altogether. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure it's nothing. It's probably just anxiety."

Max scowled a little. "I may not like ships, but I'm not crazy enough to fantasize-."

"Not what I meant, Max!" cut in Terry with his hands up in surrender. "I meant that maybe we're both overthinking things."

Max stood in the hall, giving him the most serious expression of his day. "But what if we aren't?" To that question, Terrence McGinnis didn't have an answer. Max sighed. "Call Bruce, Ter…"

He nodded in agreement, despite her words not being a suggestion. "I figured that would be the best thing to do. Maybe it'll clear our heads."

"Or," added Max as she turned and made her way down the hall to head upstairs without him. "Maybe it'll tell us what to look out for."

Terry smirked at her statement, noting just how far Max has come from the first time she figured out his secret a while ago. Back then, he wanted his vigilantism to have nothing to do with Gibson. Just the thought of the pink haired femme wanting to be active in Batman's crime fighting lifestyle was enough to make both McGinnis and Wayne snap in fierce prohibition to the girl's antics. But now? Now the raven haired teen couldn't even imagine what his life would be without her – on the streets and otherwise. Even Wayne had come to recognize the important role that Max often played in their objective; recognize and appreciate (as much as Bruce Wayne was capable of showing appreciation). Terrence plopped down on the bed of his overly luxurious room and pulled out his cellular, dialing an all too familiar number. The line rung briefly before a gruff voice answered.

"What's wrong, McGinnis?"

"Why does something have to be wrong for me to call you, old man?" gasped Terry, feigning insult and hurt.

Bruce Wayne narrowed his eyes from within the darkness of his advanced Bat Cave, patting the head of the black Great Dane that sat diligently at his feet – head resting on the retired Batman's lap, desperate for affection. "You call me more often when things are wrong than right. And for you to reach out to me in the middle of your senior class trip? Something is _definitely_ wrong. What's up?"

McGinnis sighed and leaned back some, resting his upper weight completely on his hands digging into the mattress. "Fine, but just so you know: next time I call, it'll be to prove you wrong." Wayne rolled his eyes with so much disbelief, Terry could've swore that he heard it. "Anyways," continued the teen with a serious expression and tone. "Have you ever heard of _Bienvenidos Travel_?"

Wayne hesitated. "Heard of them? Long ago, Wayne Enterprises funded them…"

McGinnis sat up, appalled by this new information. "Wh-what happened?"

Bruce Wayne narrowed his brows. "Eugenio Salvarez happened…"

To be continued…

* * *

 _ **Uh-oh! Looks like next chapter we'll get a little information on Eugenio! Turns out, his desire for greed might be a lot more deadly than we (particularly, I) ever thought! Until next time, MistFits!**_


End file.
